It s a boy!
by anarchic equity
Summary: Naming the baby boy of a consulting detective and an army doctor. Johnlock established relationship, Mystrade.
1. It s a boy!

It´s a boy!

"John!" Excitement.

"John, dear!" Stomping on the staircase.

"John, love!" Ripping the door open.

"Why the fuck are you shouting around the flat, Sherlock? Goddammit~ it´s" John angrily grabbed the alarm clock and nearly knocked it off the nightstand in the process "6 o´clock, Sherlock! And I´ve had the evening shift!"

Sherlocks´ grin spread even wider.

He held out his device.

"Guess who´s that."

Sherlock pressed his lips together, trying to make a serious face. But failing.

John shot Sherlock an irritated look, then decided to follow the orders.

"I don´t know who´s that."

"Oh, come on, John. Try at least."

"It´s someones´ baby."

Sherlock sighed. "Right. Can´t you deduce it?"

John glanced at him angrily with an expression that said: _´After an evening shift?´_

"It´s a baby, Sherlock."

Trying to put this argument to an end.

The grin reappeared.

"It´s our baby!"

"…"

"Oh don´t stare at me with this dumb expression!" Sherlock huffed.

"What do you mean ´our baby´?"

"The agency called. We´re off to Edinburgh at 2. They also sent the photo."

John grabbed the phone, gaping. Staring at the picture.

"This is…"

"Yes. He´s three weeks old."

"It´s our boy."

"Yes."

"Brilliant."

And they were smiling.


	2. It s a human!

It´s a human!

"So how should we call him?"

"Hm?"

Sherlock was seated comfortably on the couch and staring absent-minded at the little bundle in his lanky arms.

"You know we have to give him a name, since he wasn´t named by the hospital staff."

John sat next to Sherlock, leaning into him, also looking at the pink face shimmering out of the cozy, blue blanket.

"I am very aware of that fact."

"So…?"

"So, I haven´t decided on a name yet."

John was getting angry again.

They were only back from Edinburgh for a few hours and John was already getting angry for the second time.

The first time was when Sherlock, who insisted his only duty was to carry their kid, and who not bothered even asking if he could help his husband with their bags, had dared Mrs. Hudson _´to lay her filthy, bacteria-covered hands on his newborn´_.

John had to promise her a lot of cuddle-time with the new inhabitant of 221B, to stop her sobbing.

And now this.

"Since when have we decided that I have no say in this matter?"

"We haven´t decided that. I decided it."

For the first time in two hours Sherlock was looking at his lover again.

"It´s only logical. You are much more on the motherly side than I am and therefore It will be more affectionate to you in Its younger days, until It finally realizes that I am a rather brilliant man."

John gave him a look that said: _´Come to the point.´_

"So for the lack of affection I´ll get from It I get to decide Its name."

"We both know you don´t really care about affection." John sighed. "But I get your point and I know very well you won´t give in. So, fine, decide."

Sherlock was smirking, although he knew of course he would win.

"So what´s it going to be?"

Sherlock bend his head downwards again, to give It his full attention.

"Give me time to think."

"How much time?"

John was already concerned about his son's future psychical health.

"I don´t know. Just time. I will find the right name for It."

"It´s a human! It needs a name! You can´t call him ´It´ the whole time!"

Sherlock looked at John again, sternly.

"I can. Mummy never once thought about my brother's name properly and all she came up with was ´Mycroft´."

…

"Fine."

With that John got up to get their tea.

And Sherlock smirked in victory.


	3. It s a Sherlock!

It´s a Sherlock!

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Please enlarge your question."

"What the fuck are you doing here with that thing tied to your chest?"

"That thing, dear Greg, is a carry-cot."

As a matter of fact Sherlock Watson-Holmes, worlds only consulting detective, was standing in the middle of a crime scene, a naked, dead body to his feet, having a carry-cot tied to his flat chest, seeming unimpressed by Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrades´ tirade.

"Yes, I can see that, Sherlock. I´m not that stupid."

Sherlock snorted at that.

Greg chose to ignore it.

"But why is there a baby in it?"

"That is an utterly stupid question. Bravo, Inspector!"

Sherlock made an exaggerated gesture by widening his arms and rolling his eyes.

"Of course there is something to carry in the carry-cot, why would I wear it, if there wasn´t something to carry."

Greg dropped his head, closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

He started a new attempt.

"Why have you brought your baby to a crime scene?"

"Well, I certainly couldn´t leave It at home alone. John told me that was much not good. And John is working currently, and I will never let Mrs. Hudson watch after It again. She coughed on It last Friday. Therefore, I had to bring It in."

"You could have left him at the caretakers!"

"No, can´t do that. It thinks other babies are dull."

Sherlock said, waving the argument away with his right hand.

"Sherlock…" Greg said in a very warning tone. "You can´t bring your baby to a crime scene."

"Why not? It is clearly enjoying it." he said with his trademark-smirk.

To be fair, one had to say Sherlock was right.

The baby was reaching desperately for the bloody bludgeon beside the pale lady.

Sherlock sneaked the rubber gloves out of a policeman´s pocket, grabbed the bludgeon and showed it to his boy.

And ´It´ squeaked in delight.

"See? It loves crime scenes!"

Sherlock exclaimed happily, being a proud father.

And Greg won´t believe his own eyes and ears.

"My god" he sighed. _´It´s a Sherlock!´_


	4. It s a Greg!

It´s a Greg!

Sipping his tea quietly, Mycroft observed Sherlock observing the baby on the floor.

It was happily sucking on a wooden skull. (Of course one of Sherlocks´ presents.)

"There was really no need of you coming here, but it was nice of you stopping by and also thanks for the chocolate."

A box of pralines lay open and half-empty on the coffee table.

"It was no trouble at all, John."

Mycroft said, briefly breaking eye contact with the scene before him.

"I have to at least make sure Sherlock hasn´t killed my nephew yet, whilst using him in one of his experiments."

John chuckled.

"As you know, I do care."

Both expected a disapproving snort from the third party, but Sherlock was clearly in his own world.

John glanced over at his husband, still in his dressing gown.

Sherlock sat cross-legged besides the door, elbows on his knees, fingertips pressed against each other, index fingers against his lips, in his best thinking-pose.

"No need to worry, really."

John tried to sound convincing. People probably wouldn´t believe him, but he was saying the truth.

"He has been great so far, better even I thought he would be."

There was something in Johns voice, in Johns eyes, in Johns smile.

"He´s a great dad."

John kept staring at Sherlock and Mycroft knew he wouldn´t get much of a conversation out of him anymore.

So he got back to observing.

If someone would have taken a photo of his face right now, he would have perfect blackmail-material.

If someone would have looked at him right now, he would have caught Mycroft staring fascinated at his younger brother.

If someone would have studied his face right now, he would have caught Mycroft almost looking lovingly.

Mycroft had only rarely seen Sherlock in this kind of state.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, although this day was 27 years ago.

He remembered 8-year-old Sherlock, all white skin, black curls and huge eyes, staring at the smashed head of their gardener. No one had seen Sherlock for over five hours until Mummy had found him at the doorstep of the garden shed, not moving, just staring. Mummy thought her cute, little son was simply in shock after discovering a dead man and tried to pry him away from that sight. But Sherlock was not paying attention to her sobbing and sweet words. He was just staring. Mycroft couldn´t make out if his sibling was truly breathing the whole time. He was just staring. Mycroft was sure it had made _´klick´_ in some part of Sherlocks brain, as the boy, who had never been interested in anything, saw his first dead man. And there was a look in his eyes Mycroft would remember for the rest of his life.

He had seen it only a few more times after that incident, mostly while Sherlock was working with Greg, during a very challenging case.

Suddenly it came to him.

This boy gave Sherlock something to think about.

This boy was serving challenges.

_´It´s a little Greg!`_

Mycroft made a mental note to share his thought with Greg at dinner.

It would clearly annoy him.


	5. It s a John!

It´s a John!

"Isn´t he just adorable!"

John and Sherlock were standing in their childs´ room, Sherlocks´ former room, and watching the little figure in the crib sleeping. The fathers had tried countless times to wrap their most precious possession in blankets, but the little boy would always loosen them in his sleep. And daddy Sherlock would say, that _´It`_ was ´_just like`_ himself and that _´It`_ was _´going to be a brilliant man`_.

"I never thought, I would ever say something stupid like this" Sherlock said with a deep frown engraved in his face "but I honestly could eat It alive!"

John chuckled.

"But that's not a logic thing to say! Of course I won´t eat him at all!" Sherlock began to lament.

"Sherlock…."

"What, John! I am the most logic man in the entire Kingdom. I am one of the big brains of the twenty first century. I am the worlds´ only consulting detective! I am…"

"Honey! That´s what love does to every parents brain!" John stated and held his husband a little closer from behind. "Even to your brilliant, complex and beautiful mind."

To put more weight on his words, John kissed his Sherlocks´ neck after each word.

Sherlock seemed to be convinced, as he expressed his consent by gliding further into Johns embrace.

As John watched his little boy sleeping sweetly, he thought about the strong relationship already built between Sherlock and his son.

Normally, Sherlock wouldn´t give a damn about some blokes singing, more like shouting, ´God save the Queen´ in the middle of the night after their last round at the local pub. But his child would wake up and Sherlock did care.

Normally, Sherlock wouldn´t give a damn about some sniffer-dogs comments about a physical weakness of someone. But his child was not able to defend itself and Sherlock did care.

Normally, Sherlock wouldn´t give a damn about some of his equipment, being left around the flat carelessly. But his child would take the scalpels in his tiny hands and try to shove them in his mouth and Sherlock did care.

John realized that their baby was the second human being that was able to make that egoistic sociopath care.

Just now, as Sherlock tried for the third time to fix the loose blankets around the babys body carefully, John thought that his child was not all Sherlock, but also a bit like him.

_´It´s a John!`_

A warm smile spread across his features as they walked down the stairs hand in hand.

It was a good thing, knowing that ´It´ was at least a bit like him.

… that It made Sherlock care.


	6. It s a Anderson!

It´s a Anderson!

"What is that again?", Sherlock screamed, as the little family entered 221B that afternoon after a nice long walk in the park.

"Oh that? Well, can´t you deduce it?"

Greg smirked and one could hear a vague "not again", as John entered behind his husband, baby in his arms.

Sherlock sighed deeply, pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, don´t roll your eyes on me buddy. Well if you can´t guess I have to tell you: It´s a drugs bust…!"

Greg couldn´t hold his smile.

John growled.

"…again!"

"Oh come on!" Sherlock twisted around on his heel.

"Every few month I´ve got you Bobbies in my flat, skimming through my personal belongings and generally being a pain in the arse so you can find nothing useful against me, again!"

"But it´s so nice in your home, freak. I slowly get accustomed to it."

"Donovan! Not you again!" Sherlock spun around to point an accusing finger at the Sergeant.

At the bottom of his eyes Sherlock could see his lover put their baby on the ground and moving to put away a tiny coat. Since ´It´ was able to crawl the floor was being cleaned frequently. And now, these naggers were dirtying the floor and it was Sherlocks´ duty to clean up next.

Sherlock spun around another time as he heard a faint shout of "Are these eyeballs?" in his kitchen and he stomped into the direction of the shout with the matching reply of "Anderson, you sniffer-dog!".

One floor above John tried to stay calm while he dutifully put away his boys coat and warm socks. _´It had been such a nice, calm afternoon. No work, no case, but still no boredom. Just my husband, our baby and I. A nice, little family taking a walk in the park. But no. No boring family life for John Watson. No calm afternoons, no washing your baby in the sink, no making love to Sherlock on the _-"ARGH!"

John was ripped out of his thoughts by Sallys scream and as he entered the sitting room he saw the woman staring at her knees and Sherlock swinging their boy joyfully in his arms.

"YOU…..!" She was pointing at Sherlock.

"What did he do again?" John asked annoyed.

"Not him, HIM!"

John didn´t quite get it.

Sallys tights were ripped in the area of her knees.

Gregory was looking amused.

Anderson was looking disgusted.

Sherlock was smiling like crazy and kissing their boys face over and over and mumbling wildly: "You great boy, you great, great boy! You are amazing! You are brilliant!"

And when John finally saw their boys´ wooden skull on the floor, he was able to deduce it

´It´ had ripped Sallys tights.

Therefore _´It´s a Anderson!`_ John thought with a smile.

_´I´ve got to tell Sherlock!`_

The smile faded.

_´No, better not…`_


	7. It s a Molly!

It´s a Molly!

**I want to express my gratitude for all your clicks and reviews. I read each one of them multiple times. ****Expect the next update next weekend.**

"Look who´s there, look who´s there! Who´s there? It´s daddy! Yeah, it´s daddy! It´s your…"

"John! Please stop!"

John was seated in front of his laptop, cross-legged, baby on his lap, webcam on, nuzzling his boys' hair lovingly.

"What?" John replied annoyed.

"Stop talking baby to him, it´ll only make him dumb."

Sherlock on the other end auf the connection feared about Its future academic abilities.

"If you continue talking like that, his brain will become mush! Ah, I can already picture him, attending state school, having a B in simple things like chemistry, not being able to deduce his good, old father!" Sherlock shuddered.

John pouted. "I was in state school, you know."

Sherlock stopped his rant for 1.4 seconds, his brilliant brain coming to full stop only to look at his husband on the screen to check if he was really angry. No. Good. Go on.

"That´s not the point!"

"Then what is the point, love?" John gazed at his husband from underneath his blond lashes.

"Daddy can talk baby with me whenever he wants and can´t make him stop!" John was now holding the baby´s arms and waving about with them.

The boy giggled full of joy at daddy Sherlocks´ furious expression.

"Don´t let your father John influence your mind, little one!" Sherlock stared at his son with a stern expression and pointed his finger at him "Father Sherlock would be very angry with you, very, very angry!"

The little boy now looked as he was about to burst into tears. Of course he didn´t understand a thing his daddy said, but he seemed so mean! The baby was taking it personally.

"Don´t treat him like that! I´m the one who's got to deal with him crying all evening because his daddy´s not there to kiss him good night!" John exclaimed.

Sherlocks´ expression softened instantly.

"…I´m sorry, little one. I love you."

Babys´ mood lightened and soon he was reaching again for the face on the screen, wanting to touch it.

"Usually passive, he´s very emotional when it comes to you, don´t you think?"

"Yeah, just like Molly!" Sherlock growled.

"Right! It´s a Molly!"

"…"

"Oh Sherlock, don´t give me that look!"

"…"

"… Sherlock, I love you."

"…love you too."

"Be home soon!"

"I will."


	8. It s a Mycroft!

It´s a Mycroft!

**For all the Mystraders out there! **Expect the next update next weekend.****

Usually it would have been a nice, quiet Sunday-afternoon at the Holmes-Lestrade flat. Well… It was nice, but it was certainly not quiet, since the youngest of Holmses was currently residing in the flat.

To Johns´ birthday Mycroft had thought it would be nice for them to have a real honeymoon, since, in his eyes, their elopement didn´t really count as honeymoon.

Therefore John and Sherlock were shipped to Spain at 4 am for a few reasons:

1. so Sherlock would not throw a fit in his dizzy pre-morning-sex state.

2. so John would not care about his packed bag at his bedside in the night.

3. to have Sherlock out of Mycrofts´… ahem, the Queens´ country for a whole week.

4. because Sherlock hated the warm clime.

5. because Mycroft knew, that Sherlock hated the warm clime.

6. because Mycroft would never confess, that he knew, that Sherlock hated the warm clime.

And that was what led to Greg playing with the baby-Holmes on the carpet of their shared flat, building a tower of toy blocks, while Mycroft eyed the little "thing" suspiciously from the couch.

"You don´t have to be that distant, Myc." Greg waved his boyfriend closer with a hand, the gesture not being clear, because said hand currently held a yellow square block.

"Kids are great. Wish I could see mine more often."

His voice sounded a bit sad, so Mycroft seated himself besides Greg, farthest away from the "thing" as possible, and slipped an arm around Gregs´ waist. It was quiet for a while.

"Never thought about having one yourself?" Greg looked at Mycroft again, having his smile back.

"No. Never had time, always busy. Never considered myself a good father, but also never considered Sherlock one. Never had the right partner." Greg tensed at that.

The tension was broken by a loud ring from the telephone.

"I´ll get it." Greg left rapidly.

"Sherlock, it´s you! How´s… Yeah, yeah, he´s fine, but how… I told you he´s fine… Sherlock!... Sherlock I… Okay, all right, calm down. He drinks just the right amount, has even eaten a bit of infant cereal and his digestive system is just fine, so get our worrying ass out of the hotel room and tell John to fuck you senseless, so you don´t call us every two hours!"

As Greg sat down again it would have been nice to say that he was a little annoyed. He was fucking pissed.

"That child truly rules their world." Mycroft commented.

"…"

"What? Why are you smirking?"

"…that kid is their government… It´s a little Mycroft!"

Both of them smiled.

_´Would be nice, having a little Mycroft, or a little Gregory, or both.`_

"…"

"…"

"Greg… I think about having one…"


	9. It s a Martha!

It´s a Martha!

**We´re slowly coming to the finale! Wanna purpose names?**

It was their families' weekly trip to the lab. Sherlock towering over the microscope, John fiddling with a dead mans´ feet, baby playing with an empty petri dish.

Molly seemed kind of helpless. Seeing Sherlock like this, married, a father… it hurt.

"So you say he died after running down a staircase? How will you possibly know that?" John glanced at Sherlock.

He was in full detective-mode, not even looking up as he replied. "Of course. Don´t you see how the left side of his right foot is still a bit swollen. Also the heel of his right hand. Clearly from running for his life down a staircase and holding onto the banister. Five stores minimum. Only one building of this height in the area. Lestrade´s so slow…"

John snorted. "Yeah… right…"

Sherlock looked up. "What John?"

"You, saying Greg´s slow… The man who can´t name his own child… Sherlock, do you realize that he is four month old by tomorrow and people call him ´baby´, ´little one´, ´Holmes junior´ and ´thing´! We even have trouble with the DFCS, because you refrain from telling them a name for their registers!"

"I just want the name to be unique, like Sherlock. Not something boring like..." Sherlock was pacing.

"…like John? Come on, say it!"

"Something boring like John!"

"Oh, you dare it!" John was nearly shouting.

"What? You didn´t decide on that name."

"But I am called like that for 41 years now!"

"True, but…"

"Why don´t you call him Sherlock then?" John mocked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"… moreover… I will not decide on a name which starts with M. Reminds me too much of Mycroft."

"Oh stop being so childish! We all know that you love him!

"Ah…!"

"And he loves you too! There´s nothing wrong with that! It´s brotherly love! Come to terms with it!"

Molly thought about how to stop them, as they looked ready to shred the other into pieces.

"… ah… would you…" The shouting continued. "… ähm… maybe you… should…" She was totally ignored.

"WAHH!"

John and Sherlock stopped instantly.

Turning with horror to their child.

It was quiet again, looking accusingly at his daddies as if to say: ´Stop it, boys!`

Soon it was being cradled by four joined arms and kisses were exchanged.

It really got a hang on handling them, like Martha Hudson.

_´It´s a Martha!`_ Molly thought, a jealous smile engraved on her face.


	10. It s a Sally!

It´s a Sally!

**Next-to-last chapter!**

Carry-cot ahead Sherlock and John hurried through Scotland Yard to Gregorys´ office.

Without knocking the Consultant entered just like normal.

Right on time to hear the DI finish his phone call with "…look forward to it. Love you.".

Sherlock wriggled his nose in disgust.

"Ugh! Stop talking like that to my brother while I´m in the room."

Greg shrugged annoyed. "You weren´t even in the room until now!"

"That does not matter. Someone talking like that to Mycroft, it´s a common danger…"

John didn´t even acknowledge his husbands´ rant and took the carry-cot off of Sherlock instead.

Gred sighed. "Sherlock, what do you want?"

"I need time in the forensics lab, take a proper look at the arsenic cushion, so it´s your duty to…"

"Honey!" John said, not even looking at Sherlock, his tune telling exactly what was going on.

"John?"

"Sherlock!"

"But John!"

They stared at each other for several seconds, not moving an inch.

"Okay…" Sherlock started again. "If you would be so nice Gregory …Greg, my friend, would you please get Anderson out of the lab, so I could take a peek at the arsenic cushion …you nice, competent man?"

John nodded slightly.

Greg, being a tad surprised, was not able to argue and called Anderson up instantly, not even noticing, that baby-Holmes has been left on his couch.

As Anderson made his entry, he immediately noticed the child, smelling the Holmesness like the sniffer-dog he is.

Before Greg could make a move to protect his to-be-nephew, Anderson kneeled before the couch.

"You are a poor boy, with a freak of a daddy like Sherlock."

Anderson picked up the child.

"Come here, little freakOHHH~"

Greg quickly snatched the baby out of Andersons´ grip as said man sank to the floor, both hands at his crotch, and commented for the whole bureau to hear: "Hey, folks, it kicked him right in the nuts! It´s a Sally!"


	11. It s a name!

It´s a name!

**And the winner is….!**

Afternoon at Baker Street.

The light steam of chamomile tea.

The smell of freshly baked scones.

A happy melody flowing from the violin.

Sherlock Watson-Holmes looked around while swaying a little to the music.

The kitchen was a mess, due to one of his experiments going wrong.

The heavy rain and hail made going out impossible.

He was still dressed in his payjamas and night gown, no case in sight.

The television showed some soap opera, but no one was paying attention and the tone was mute.

His baby was sleepily clinging to a soft toy on the couch.

His husband was reading a medical book besides it.

John.

Brave, kind, trustworthy, reliable, lawful John.

The babys´ blue eyes glimmering with the same kindness as his fathers.

Sherlock paused.

"Lawliet."

"Hm?"

"That´s his name. Lawliet."

"Oh!" John was glancing at the almost asleep child. "Why all of a sudden?"

_´Because I want him to become like you!` _

"Just because."

"Just because? Well, okay, Lawliet. It´s a name."

"It is."

Sherlock was playing again. A soft tune.

And one could hear John say: "Good name, for our little love-bundle."

**Hope, we´ll see each other again in** "Sexperiments" and **"Habits, Wishes, Desires, Dreams", where we´ll hear from little Law in later chapters.**


End file.
